Carrying On
by dreamfandomist
Summary: Set after S05E01, Thomas finds himself missing Jimmy and he has a late night conversation with Mrs Hughes.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own do these character and I do not obtain any economic benefit from them. **

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Chapter 1

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Thomas walked down the flight of stairs that led downstairs to the kitchens and the servant's hall. It was way past midnight and the early hours of the day had already dawned, but sleep had evaded him. Several times over he tried to get into a much desired sleep but he simply couldn't. Events were playing up in his mind and in the confines of his room he felt suffocated. He escaped it, threading slowly past Mr Carson's door knowing that he was a light sleeper, and slipped away from the men's quarters.

Now downstairs, at the foot of the flight of stairs he stood still for a moment, lost. Beads of sweat had formed on his brow and all over his face, occasionally running down from behind his ear along the length of his neck. He wondered if he would open the back door and have some fresh air or have a nice cup of tea to soothe his nerves. Instead he resorted to take a glass of water to the servants hall. He carefully filled a glass of water from the kitchens and settled himself down on a chair facing the piano. His heart sank at the sight of it. No one would play it anymore. His mind drifted to the few skilled players whose hands had ghosted over the keys yellowed with age.

The first he had seen was William. Despite his constant competition and envy towards William, now that he was gone, Thomas missed him. He remembered the days when William would play a tune and he would pick Daisy or a housemaid for a dance till either Mrs Patmore's shrill outburst or Mr Carson's long lecture about propriety would freeze them all for a moment before they all dispersed again. Sometimes they would go for long till Mrs Hughes came through the corridor, the sound of the keys on her chatelaine muffled by the lively sounds of the piano, and throw them all a stern look and send them all scurrying back again to work. Some days when they all had little to do, she would pop by and check on them and let the, have their fun for good many and hour. Also ensuring that Mr Carson didn't scare them away.

Then the war came and everything changed. William and he, both went off to the war. One came home to live a half life, the other to die leaving a widow of six hours behind.

For several years the piano stood in the corner, its voice muted, only the occasional hall boy or a maid who tried and played a simple tune, often off key. Then came Jimmy and his pretty shock of blond hair. The piano came alive again. Jazz tunes and London melodies floated through the downstairs corridors of the Yorkshire country mansion, steeped in tradition and its many efforts to remain static in a dynamic world.

He didn't dance anymore. That boy was long gone. But he liked to watch either Alfred or an older hall boy take a blushing maid in their arms to twirl around the small space. Daisy didn't dance much either. Maybe the girl is going too, to make way for the woman. It was Ivy's chance to shine, clumsily attempting a fox trot while Jimmy played and Mr Bates softly marked time with his walking stick, holding hands with a blushing Mrs Bates. But Alfred went off to London and Ivy found her way to America, leaving the little dance floor open to the younger maids and hall boys. And oh that smile of Jimmy's face when he played! It could pierce deep into his heart. Now he was gone too.

Jimmy was the one true friend he had in a long time. He wouldn't call Sarah O'Brien exactly a friend. They were both ambitious people who shared the same interests and that was the one thing that connected them. But with Jimmy he had more, He loved him. And despite having accepted that they would never have a chance, he still loved him. After all was it wrong to love him in his heart even though he never hoped to act on his emotions?

He took risks for Jimmy. First for his love and then for his friendship. When Jimmy walked to Lady Anstruther's room that night, he never wished it had been to his room. One time ago he might have. But now he knew that love was not a word written for a man like him.

Thomas looked ahead and wondered what the future might be. Life so far had left him an unloved, miserable wreck. A man whose sleep was filled with nightmares of the war he had seen and the chains he feared would bind him for his choice of whom he loved.

A whirl wind of broken hopes and fears stormed in his mind and a half empty man stared at a half empty space.

**To be continued…**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters and I certainly do not obtain any economic benefit out of them.**

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Chapter 2

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Sleep was evading her and Mrs Hughes found herself tossing and turning in bed without falling asleep at least for a moment. She let out a frustrated sigh. She had a long day ahead of her and she badly needed some sleep. But now it seemed that her body was protesting against her mind and denying what she longed for, a few hours of quiet sleep. There was too much going on in her mind. Too much than she could bear. Elsie Hughes could bear a lot of things but even she had her limits.

The whole Mr Green business still haunted her. Anna's face that night still kept flashing in front of her eyes like a feverish nightmare that once seen tainted one's mind. She feared for the Bateses. As she confirmed strongly to Lady Mary she wouldn't blame John Bates if he indeed took the bastard's life in exchange for his wife's honour. But the law does not always weigh what is fair or not, it doesn't sympathise. Murder combined with murderous intention is still a crime and no law sympathise with a husband devastated by the wrong done to his wife. The Bateses just got back from the hell of Mr Bates' wrongful conviction but if something were to happen now? Mrs Hughes really couldn't relive those days again.

Then there was the matter of the Drewe's girl. She did not usually care much about the affairs of the family, as all servants she was curious but not interested. But this worried her a bit. Lady Edith, despite her faults, was always nice to her and that was the main reason why it made her curious. How Anna saw Mr Drewe in a first class compartment with the little girl just as Lady Grantham and Lady Edith got off the train. Lady Edith's constant visits to Yew Tree Farm. Lady Edith talking in whispers to Mr Drewe after the fire. The photo under Lady Edith's pillow that she found after the fire. She also knew that Lady Edith loved Mr Michael Gregson with all her heart. This all confirmed her darkest suspicions. Lady Edith quite unlike Lady Mary didn't have all the luck in the world. What would become of it all? She did not hint her surprise at finding the photo to Anna, who didn't notice its significance when it was found. She did not speak about it to anyone least of all Mr Carson. She kept everyone's secrets, didn't she after all?

But all these secrets combined with her own, Becky and the guarded love for a certain Butler secreted away in the depths of her heart did indeed take its toll on her. Many were the nights when that delightful day at the sea lead to her deepest wishes projected as dreams and her deepest fears projected as nightmares to invade her land of sleep.

She pushed aside the covers and stepped out of bed. If sleep wouldn't come at least she could get some work done until her body felt more exhausted than it already did and could do nothing but to beg for sleep. Or maybe she'll have a nice cup of warm tea and it would help put all of this to rest.

Putting on her dressing gown, she softly stepped out of the women's quarters and climbed downstairs, holding a candlestick. She didn't worry about missing a step. Losing one's footing at this time of the night in the darkness would do some considerable damage. But Mrs Hughes knew the way down the stairs in the dark like the lines on her palm. Many were the sleepless nights that she found refuge downstairs with a cup of tea and a dying candlestick and empty corridors to keep her company.

Downstairs, Mrs Hughes was walking towards the kitchen when she saw the dim light coming from the servant's hall. Who else could be up at this ungodly hour? And why? Was it someone of the house or… an intruder? She took soft steps following the light from the servant's hall. When she entered she saw Mr Barrow seated facing the piano and staring into the emptiness. It struck Mrs Hughes to be odd. Mr Barrow was a reserved person and he had his own world. Ever since his big secret came out, he had become a recluse in his own body. But she never expected him to be up at this time of the hour.

"Mr Barrow?" she called out and Thomas looked back with a start and calmed having registered the image of the Housekeeper before his eyes.

"Ah Mrs Hughes," he said softly. Mrs Hughes searched his face for emotions but as always he was Thomas. Hiding everything behind a pretty face.

"What are you doing down here at this time of the night?" she asked quite surprised by the young man's presence.

"I should ask you the same question Mrs Hughes," he said with a measured smile on his lips. Normally Mrs Hughes would have taken the remark as impertinent but the timing did make sense to her. He must be equally surprised as she was.

"Old women sometimes find it hard to sleep Mr Barrow," she replied with a weary smile. Sometimes she would hate to admit it but she was growing older by the day and there was no denying that. But her inability to find sleep could not be blamed entirely upon her advancing years.

"Mrs Patmore finds no problem in that department as far as I know. And if I'm not terribly mistaken, which I usually am not, she's older than you," he replied still wearing that same smile.

If it had been in daylight Mrs Hughes would not have had the same opinion about the sound of this conversation. They would then be the Housekeeper and the Under Butler and speaking so freely to one's superior was something Mrs Hughes certainly did not endorse. But now at that time of the night despite them still holding their respective positions, the atmosphere was certainly different.

"I daresay she doesn't have half the weight of this house on her shoulders, unlike me," Mrs Hughes replied with a short, dry laugh.

"With that I agree Mrs Hughes," Mr Barrow replied. It was for not without reason that in his early years the footmen had taken to calling her "The Keeper of the Keys" aside from her well known nickname "Mary Queen of Scots." Mrs Hughes knew anything and everything that went on under the roof of the house and one important fact was that nothing got out of her. She held on to her secrets like a strong stain, absolutely refusing to leave. She had the keys of the entire house. Any room. Any corridor. Any nook and corner. And every secret.

"But what surprises me is what keeps _you_ up at this hour," she stated furrowing her brow.

"Life, Mrs Hughes. What else?" Barrow replied with a sigh.

Mrs Hughes recognised a slight hint as to what seemed to be the matter with Thomas. The Under Butler had no friends, not since O'Brien left the House for good. Then after the whole "incident" he had found a friend in Jimmy but the boy had to leave on his own fault. Mrs Hughes didn't like the vain boy but Thomas became friends with him after the whole episode that involved Alfred, Thomas and Jimmy and Mrs Hughes noted that Thomas changed a lot once he found a friend. And of course he must be lonely.

Mrs Hughes placed the candle down on the table and went on to take the arm chair at the corner which was facing the side of the chair that Mr Barrow occupied. She sat herself down carefully, her knees giving a quick and soft creak in the silence. The Under Butler faced her and for the first time the Housekeeper noticed the deep dark circles under the younger man's eyes.

**To be continued…**

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**Thank you so so much for all your lovely reviews! I'm so glad that you like this little story. There will be a few more chapters to go. See you soon with a new chapter. **


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: None of these characters belong to me and I do not obtain any economic benefit out of them.**

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Chapter 3

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He looked back at the piano and by the dim light she studied the now hollowed face of the handsome younger man. Sleep had possibly been evading him for several nights.

"You must be missing James," Mrs Hughes remarked carefully watching the muscles on his face change as he clenched his jaw.

"Yes… yes I do," he replied without facing her.

"You can find other friends Mr Barrow, if you let them into their life," Mrs Hughes watched the candlelight play on the high cheek bones and the sharp jaw of the Under Butler. And she noticed how he struggled to maintain his usual, unfeeling expression.

After a few moments he faced her. If she was not mistaking, his eyes were slightly glistening. Traces of tears welling in his eyes.

"But I can't, can I Mrs Hughes?" he held back a sigh. "Not when I am what I am."

"I've seen other men like you Mr Barrow. I've known other men like you. They did not necessarily make their lives entirely gloomy," Mrs Hughes argued. Thomas Barrow was not one of the people she liked best in the world, but she empathised his situation.

"I don't think this is a conversation apt for the ears of lady, Mrs Hughes," Thomas threw in a sentence to avoid the conversation. His life was meant to be miserable and it had been long since he had accepted it. These days he just wanted to survive.

"But I am no lady Mr Barrow," Mrs Hughes smirked.

"You are in the general sense."

"That is not related to what I am talking about Thomas."

Her use of his first name surprised him a bit. He was not deaf to notice that Mrs Hughes didn't take the liberty of using his first name after his promotion, unlike Mrs Patmore at times who took the liberty far too often. He was touched, it didn't sound as if the Housekeeper was attempting to belittle him but her use of it was to convey that she cared. He sighed.

"Make friends Mr Barrow. If I am to speak plainly, you need not be sour to all and sundry."

"So that is how you see me? Sour?" he asked, his voice a bit more raised, wondering if he should actually be annoyed with Mrs Hughes. There was some truth in it after all.

"Don't you think you are being sour to the others?" she asked in an even tone and he swallowed the retort he was about to offer. He couldn't deny it.

"Start with Miss Baxter. You've known her a long time," Mrs Hughes suggested titling her head ever so slightly to a side.

He laughed a pained laugh. "She doesn't care."

"That's not what I've seen. You're ignoring the obvious. You need not make your life miserable voluntarily."

"You possibly cannot know what living this life each day feels like," his jaw clenched again.

"No, I don't know," Mrs Hughes remained calm, "But I can imagine. I might be wrong but the whole world is not trying to overthrow you. I know I am not. And possibly some others who are not."

"If only it was that simple," Thomas looked away. He knew Mrs Hughes was trying to be kind. But he knew too well, his story wasn't meant to be a happy one. He had accepted. He would die one day without a single soul having loved him, or a single soul left to remember him.

"It might be complicated but Mr Barrow, you need not make it more complicated than it already is, by yourself," Mrs Hughes reasoned. Her head titling slightly to the side, the same way when she was concerned, only she didn't notice it. But Thomas did. It was a gesture he had seen directed more towards others than himself. But one thing he knew, it was sincere.

"I'll try," he smiled. His usual measured smile which no one could read. But Mrs Hughes felt that he might have taken at least something into his mind. Her eyes drifted to the dark doorway.

"And what about you?" Thomas asked suddenly and she looked at him a slight start. Then a questioning look flashed in her eyes.

"Something is on your mind Mrs Hughes. I can see its shadows in your eyes, so to speak," Thomas smirked and Mrs Hughes directed a mock frown at him.

"Remember Mr Barrow? I am the woman of mystery," Mrs Hughes answered raising an eyebrow.

Thomas couldn't help the soft laugh that erupted despite all his efforts. Catching Mrs Hughes off guard was not something that was easily or to be more precise ever achieved.

"You don't look that much of a mysterious person."

"Ah but Mr Barrow looks can be deceiving," Mrs Hughes replied, the corners of her lips twitching upwards as she tried to suppress her smile at outsmarting the Under Butler.

"That I learnt the hard way," Mr Barrow smiled. "But surely Mrs Hughes…"

"Go on now Mr Barrow it'll be sunrise in a couple of hours. Try to get some sleep," Mrs Hughes cut him short, "You wouldn't want Mr Carson telling you off for falling asleep on your feet. And perhaps you'd like me to keep quiet about the unpolished pieces of silver you were supposed to polish last week that you hid behind two rows of candlesticks."

Mr Barrow stood up from the chair and took hold of it. He turned towards the Housekeeper, "How did you know?" He asked amused than afraid.

"My hair didn't go grey for no reason," Mrs Hughes replied ruefully.

Mr Barrow shook his head. The Housekeeper was one of those people he would never understand. She seemed so clear but there was always something about her that he couldn't lay a finger on.

"Good night Mrs Hughes," Thomas said as he pushed the chair back to its original position and took his candle in hand.

"Good night Mr Barrow," Mrs Hughes smiled.

The Under Butler stopped at the doorway. For a moment he looked down at the cold, stone floor and he turned towards the Housekeeper.

"Thank you, Mrs Hughes," he said in a softer voice. Memories of that night when the Housekeeper pulled him inside, away from the drenching rain when he couldn't tell his tears apart from the unforgiving raindrops falling on to his face, played in his mind. When he was a broken man, filled with self-hatred, assuming that the respectable woman in front of him would despise him. How she listened to his tale without being judgemental, with the yellow light of her sitting room casting blurred shadows on the wall when he shuddered and his body wracked with sobs. He didn't feel the warmth of the room but he felt the strength with which she held his hand. Maybe… there were some people he could trust.

Mrs Hughes nodded at Thomas' words. There wasn't a response she could give. No, she wasn't speechless. She simply has said all she had to say to him. She watched him leave the Servant's Hall and listened to his footsteps, amplified by the quiet of the night, ascend the stairs. A silence both peaceful and turbulent filled the air. And she watched the flame of the candle dance a slow waltz in the still air. More swaying than dancing.

She didn't tell Thomas what weighed on her mind. As always, her wit was her advantage. She did trust the Under Butler more than she did one time ago but some things never change. People change, albeit slowly. And Thomas had a long road to that.

Anna's story and Lady Edith's secret will probably go with her to some cold grave where in a decade no one will remember the woman who was once Downton Abbey's Housekeeper, one of the finest in her time she'd heard people say. She only wished the love for Charles Carson she hid behind the only lock and key that was her own, would not go to that grave with her. She wished she could talk about it out loud. Thomas Barrow was certainly not the person for it. But who? She was a solitary ship, in one way, no different than Thomas Barrow. How could she tell her only two best friends about it? One, was the man of her dreams. The other, well, she'd rather write it down on a post card and pin it up on the village post office than tell Mrs Patmore about it.

_ "Some things are better left unsaid," she thought. "But are they?"_

**The End. **

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**Thank you all for your kind reviews! And also thanks a lot for following this short fic. Your words have been a true motivation for me. And apologies for the slight delay on the final chapter. Real life intervened rather unexpectedly. (Also, reviews are much appreciated!) Thanks again! **


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